


I've Got It Bad

by mysterixn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Fluff, Lots of it, M/M, and they fall in love, gabe teaches mccree the guitar, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterixn/pseuds/mysterixn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabe starts teaching McCree how to play the guitar, and the two end up figuring out their relationship. Set during Blackwatch era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got It Bad

**Author's Note:**

> blackwatch era is after jack is appointed leader of overwatch, gabe is bitter, etc.
> 
> also, a line break means a change in POV. this isn't the case normally for me, but it's necessary for this fic
> 
> i don't yet know how i personally feel about this fic, but i hope you like it!

Gabe never attempted to keep it secret that he played the guitar. He practiced every day on the roof of one of the Dorado buildings, strumming meaningless cords and remnants of songs he learned ages ago. Some of them were the ones he used to play to Jack, while they were in Overwatch together, but those come few and far between, as Gabe’s heart hurts too much after even one of them to play more.

But play he does. He’s grown used to, fond of the way the guitar strings and aged wood feel beneath his fingers to give it up. He plays it off when he’s acting as commander of the Blackwatch forces, ignores the comments and occasional jibes from the more bold recruits and then, quietly, after training, carries his guitar to the normal spot he sits in, and plays.

He doesn’t mind the recruits knowing. It was a part of his youth, one that he was all too willing to hold on to.

What he does mind, though, is one day finding McCree sitting up on the rooftop bench Gabe frequents with a cigar in his hand and an air of being entitled to sit there.

McCree looks up and sees Gabe standing there, and his face splits into a grin. He was always too eager in front of his commander. “Hey there, partner.”

“McCree.”

“Yea?”

“What are you doing here.” It was less of a question than a statement, and McCree knows it. Gabe can see McCree swallow, and wonders what he’ll come up with to get himself out of trouble this time.

“I…” McCree curses and rolls his cigar between his metal fingers, conflicted. “I wanted to see if ya’d teach me how t’ play guitar,” he mumbles.

Well. That was new. Gabe raises an eyebrow as he gives in and settles on the bench next to McCree, setting his guitar off to the side. “That was unexpected,” he tells McCree.

McCree _blushes_ , the color highlighted by the sun dipping below the horizon behind him. “I thought ya were done bein’ surprised by me.”

Gabe laughs a bit. “Never. I don’t think you’ll ever cease to surprise me.” McCree perks up a bit, gaze lifting to meet Gabe’s.

“So… d’ya think ya could teach me?” McCree asks, with all the excitement of a new colt.

Gabe hums as he thinks, contemplating the way McCree looks with the sun balancing out his tanned features. He almost looks… attractive, and though Gabe’s entertained some thoughts before, they’ve never been so potent as they are now.

He figures he should admit he has a really big soft spot when it comes to his student.

He sets those thoughts aside briefly, addressing McCree. “If you’d really like, we could start today.”

Gabe can see McCree’s face light up with emotions, and is suddenly thrown back slightly as McCree enthusiastically throws his arms around Gabe’s neck. “Thank you,” McCree whispers in his ear, and Gabe can’t help the small laugh that bubbles up. McCree looks at him for a second, then starts giggling himself, and then they’re both laughing outright, McCree nearly in Gabe’s lap and his arms still around Gabe’s neck, leaning against him.

“Remember I won’t go easy on you,” Gabe grumbles against McCree’s neck, ever-needing to preserve his grouchy authoritative figure. McCree just hums in acknowledgement, too preoccupied with tracing small patterns on Gabe’s thigh to truly reply. The sensation is strange, and it’s almost ticklish, except it’s McCree doing it and McCree touching any part of him was novel and new.

He wonders how bad McCree must have it for him, if _he’s_ the one acting jittery while McCree is in his lap. He places his hands on the backs of McCree’s thighs, and, yep, he’s shaking slightly, trying to stay in control of the situation. McCree’s cigar has ended up somewhere on the roof, all but forgotten as Gabe moves his hands up McCree’s thighs to his hips, thumbs rubbing circles above his hipbones. McCree shifts in his lap and one of Gabe’s thighs moves between his legs, and suddenly McCree is grinding down on it and biting his lip.

Gabe simply lets him, hands still on his hips and still not entirely believing this is happening. His head feels light, and he can only imagine what McCree feels as his hands move to clutch at Gabe’s shoulders for better leverage. Then he’s rocking his hips again, letting out soft moans that sound absolutely _filthy_ in Gabe’s ears.

Gabe fumbles as he reaches for McCree’s zipper, and McCree has enough sense to try and help him unzip his pants and pull them down just slightly. Then Gabe puts his hand down McCree’s boxers and grips him, and McCree’s eyes widen.

“I--” McCree starts to say something, but Gabe shushes him by pulling his boxers down and touching McCree properly. McCree moans in his ear as his thumb pushes down on the slit, and then McCree’s hands are repeating the previous motions, struggling briefly with Gabe’s fly before managing both it and his boxers. Then McCree’s hand is on him and Gabe moans, low and quiet.

McCree scoots his hips slightly and presses their cocks together, fumbling to grip them both with one hand as he slides his hand up and down. Gabe helps him, stroking them both in time with McCree’s hand, and McCree pants against his neck as his hips jerk forward. Gabe moves his hips too, and then McCree is swearing and his hips are bucking sharply as he comes across his and Gabe’s hands, Gabe following barely seconds after.

They stay like that for a minute, coming down from their high and back to reality. Gabe grimaces at the come on his shirt, wiping his hand off on it, and then McCree’s eyes widen and he scrambles off of Gabe’s lap, kneeling on the bench next to him.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, Reyes, I wasn’t thinkin’, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I thought I could--”

Gabe pulls away a second later, but the feeling of McCree’s lips on his doesn’t leave him. McCree sits stunned, then presses his fingers to his lips, glancing at Gabe with shock. “I… I take it ya didn’t mind that so much, then,” he says quietly. Gabe huffs softly.

“Clearly not. Though,” he says, glancing down, “we may have to avoid some questions about the state of our clothes.”

Content that Gabe isn’t mad at him, McCree settles down and leans his head against Gabe’s shoulder. The act is oddly personal, and despite what they did not five minutes ago, Gabe feels himself blushing slightly.

Gabe then leans over and picks up the guitar he had set down at the very beginning, giving it an experimental strum and hearing the strings hum in response. McCree watches his fingers with rapt attention as they play a few notes, then start up in a song he knows all too well.

McCree doesn’t seem to know the lyrics, for which Gabe is mildly grateful as he starts playing “Can’t Help Falling In Love.” His heart aches as he plays -- this is one of the first songs he played exclusively for Jack, back then. Playing it in front of McCree feels strange, like he’s leaving Jack behind somehow for someone else. It rips at his emotions, threatening to bring tears to his eyes in front of McCree, which he staunchly ignores. Hell would freeze over before he even wiped his eyes in front of McCree.

He finishes the song minutes later, and leans back against the bench, looking up at the sky that has long since turned to night. The stars are barely visible against the backdrop of lights that Dorado provides, but the sky is a velvety black that seems to draw him in. Thankfully, McCree waits a minute before speaking.

“You miss him.” It’s a statement of a fact, like McCree is commenting on the weather, though his voice has a touch of sadness in it.

Gabe doesn’t bother pretending. “Yes,” he admits softly. It feels odd, telling another person he still cares about Jack. It leaves him feeling raw, as if he’s given away a part of himself that he’ll never get back.

McCree doesn’t reply. He just stays leaning against Gabe’s shoulder, and brings his hand to rest on Gabe’s guitar, now laying in his lap. They stay like that for most of the night.

* * *

McCree is fascinated with Gabe’s patience as, over the next few weeks, he proceeds to teach him how to play the guitar. Gabe makes it look so easy, yet McCree’s fingers seem to always fumble over the strings and mess up chords.

Of course, it never helped that most of the time, he sits in Gabe’s lap for the lesson. And while he’s not facing Gabe, it still feels somewhat like that night, and it throws McCree off-balance. He can feel Gabe’s thighs under his ( _damn_ , that man had strong thighs), and Gabe’s breath on his neck as he guides McCree’s hands on the guitar, and McCree simply cannot concentrate when Gabe’s hands are so close to his. Call it a weakness.

But Gabe is persistent, and soon McCree finds himself being able to play basic songs and rhythms. The first time Gabe praises him for it, McCree has to hide the slight tent in his pants, and from then on he fights a losing battle every time Gabe has time to teach him, because Gabe somehow loves to compliment him. A comment there, a word here. It’s like he knows exactly what he’s doing to McCree -- which, honestly, would not surprise him. Half the time, he swore Gabe was omniscient.

A month after Gabe started teaching McCree to play the guitar, a month of much _more_ than just playing the guitar, McCree is hit with a realization.

He and Gabe had become something like friends -- through the lessons and what McCree called the “side activities” -- and he was enjoying it a lot. And while he’d known for a while (a really long while) that he had a crush on Gabe, McCree wasn’t expecting to actually fall in love with him.

Which was what he had done.

McCree knows this can’t turn out well. Not at all. Gabe is his commander, his teacher, his _friend_ … There’s no way he can save any part of their relationship if he tells Gabe, like he so desperately wants to. He wants recognition, wants Gabe to look at him and see _him_ , not some recruit he grudgingly picked up off the streets. And while that is possibly asking a bit much, McCree holds out hope.

So, one day in April, he figures “ _fuck it_ ,” and goes to find Gabe in his office. Gabe is filling out paperwork, but he’s never been bothered by McCree just waltzing in, so McCree figures it’s fine.

Gabe doesn’t acknowledge that he’s there, which is fine; it gives McCree time to figure out what he’ll say. Soon enough, he takes a deep breath, and goes for it.

“Hey, listen, Gabe… I, uh, think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

There is complete silence in the room for a few seconds -- Gabe has stopped writing and put his pen down to look at McCree. Then, with complete and utter purpose, he picks up his pen again, and continues writing. “McCree.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

McCree frantically searches his head for what Gabe means. Is it an anniversary of some sort? Some special occasion? What…

McCree bites his tongue as he figures it out. Gabe must’ve realized this, because he says, “Good. You figured out that today is new recruit day. So if you want to have a serious discussion--” Gabe levels his gaze at McCree, who thinks it’s scarier than Gabe actually glaring-- “It will have to happen later. I’m busy currently. You’re dismissed.”

McCree opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, and instead sighs as he opens the door and steps out of Gabe’s office. He hadn’t seen them previously, because he had entered through the back door Gabe let him use, but outside the front of Gabe’s office was a line of new recruits, hand-picked for their talent and waiting to be signed on as new members. McCree makes his way to the front of the line, where a few young recruits greet him.

“Hey,” he says. “Jus’ so ya know, yer commander might be a bit bitchier today than he usually is.” With that, and a tip of his hat, he wanders off in the general direction of the training area. He needs something to shoot.

* * *

Just days later, Gabe growls at the paperwork on his desk. _5 recruits handed in their resignation forms today._ He leans back in his chair and puts his hands over his face. _McCree probably did something to scare them away. Damn brat._

He can’t stop thinking of new recruit day. McCree walking in, suddenly blurting out that he’s fallen in love… It’s absurd. And Gabe can’t take his mind off of it.

Because in all honesty, _he’s_ fallen in love with McCree, too.

But how can he tell him that? “Hey, McCree, I love you?” That’s not how Gabe works. It’s not like him to just say whatever comes to his mind without thought, like McCree usually does.

Gabe is so preoccupied with what to say that he hasn’t spoken to McCree at all since McCree told him, other than the occasional “nice shot” in training. The damn kid got off on that, after all. Couldn’t leave him hanging in that aspect.

But other than that, Gabe hasn’t said a word. And McCree, in turn, seems to be avoiding him, which is more than a bit worrying. _What if I scared him off? What about the relationship we were having? What’ll happen?_

Gabe groans. “What if” questions always make his brain hurt. He can’t be bothered to stay on that train of thought-- it never goes anywhere useful when he tries to follow it.

He eventually comes up with an idea. Gabe can’t just walk up to McCree and start talking, otherwise other recruits would hear them and his reputation as a strict commander would go downhill. So, he chooses to have a conversation in a language both he and McCree know, but (hopefully) no one else in earshot does.

Gabe finds McCree in the training area -- it seems to be a favorite spot of McCree’s as of late -- and grabs him by the arm, pulling him off to the side. McCree looks shocked that Gabe is finally acknowledging him, and keeps his gaze down, before Gabe puts a hand under his chin to make him look up.

“McCree,” he says quietly. “ _Tu entiendes español, ¿si?_ ” (You speak Spanish, right?) McCree nods, and Gabe lets go of his arm, instead placing it on McCree’s hip. McCree visibly swallows as Gabe continues speaking in Spanish. _"_ _Bien. No puedo haber mi imagen en ruinas, porque te dije que cuando otros podrían entender, hm?"_ (Good. I can't have my image ruined by telling you this when others could hear me, hm?)

He can see McCree’s eyes light up, hoping, and Gabe chuckles as his hand wanders, finding its way to the front of McCree’s pants. McCree nearly gasps out loud, but doesn’t say anything. Gabe continues.

 _“Creo tu recuerdas que hace unos días, tu confesaste algo serio a mí,”_  (I'm sure you recall that a few days ago, you came to me with a serious confession) Gabe says, and presses his hand down against McCree’s crotch. McCree bites his lip. _“¿Le importaría repetir lo que dijiste a mí?”_ (Would you mind repeating what you told me?)

 _“Dije... dije creo que.... dije creo que estoy enamorado contigo,”_  (I... I told ya that I think I've... fallen in love with ya) McCree quietly says.

 _“Bien,”_ (Good) Gabe purrs, sliding his hand into McCree’s pants and palming him through his boxers. McCree shudders slightly. _“Lo siento por posponiendo esta conversación,”_ (Now, I apologize for having to put off this conversation) Gabe says, thumbing at the waistband of McCree’s boxers, _“pero, yo sí creo esto valió la pena esperar.”_ (But I do believe this was worth the wait) Gabe then puts his hand down McCree’s underwear and grips him properly, and McCree’s eyes widen.

Gabe leans in closer to McCree, his lips nearly brushing his ear as he strokes McCree in his pants. _“Porque,”_ he husks,  _"tú también me gustas.”_ (Because I like you too)

* * *

By this point, McCree’s brain has certainly short-circuited. Gabe is speaking to him in Spanish, which was bad enough, but his hand was _also_ down McCree’s pants, and what he was _saying_ … McCree can’t focus on anything but Gabe right now.

Gabe is looking at him with what seems to be amusement, still stroking him slowly as McCree processes the words. “W-well.” McCree struggles to find words -- not something that happens often -- and then translate them to Spanish in his head. “What does that make us, then?”

Gabe shrugs, flicking his wrist as he does, and McCree makes a whimpering sound. “Whatever you’d like us to be.”

McCree can’t find words to reply with, because Gabe’s thumb is pressing into his slit and his hand strokes him faster and he’s coming, coating Gabe’s hand and the inside of his boxers. Gabe removes his hand, bringing it to his mouth and licking at McCree’s come, and McCree really does whimper this time.

How he got someone like Gabe to like him was a mystery.

Over the next few weeks, McCree is more than happy with Gabe. There’s just one thing that he notices.

Gabe never says “I love you.”

Sure, he’ll shower him with kisses and pet names when they’re alone. He’ll come up with long-winded declarations of affection, and dote on him all the time. But he never says the word “love.”

McCree believes it’s because of Jack. He thinks Gabe can’t stand to tell another person he loves them because of what he still feels for Jack. And while McCree understands, it hurts a little bit, like his affections aren’t truly returned.

One night, while they’re laying together and half cuddling in their usual way after sex, Gabe speaks. His chest is pressed to McCree’s back, and the sound rumbles through McCree pleasantly. “I love you,” he mumbles into the space between McCree’s shoulderblades.

McCree freezes, and Gabe evidently feels him tense up, because he says, “Turn around.” McCree shifts enough that he can roll over, and he’s struck by the amount of emotion showing in Gabe’s eyes. He’s never seen so much vulnerability in him.

“Darlin’, I think I’m gonna need ya to repeat what ya jus’ said,” McCree says quietly, and Gabe’s mouth quirks up.

“I said, you dumb cowboy, that I love you.” McCree nearly gapes. Gabe is _different_ when he’s in love. Joking around with him, _smiling_ like that… It makes McCree’s heart do some damn flips in his chest. He feels special, knowing he’s the only one who gets to see this side of Gabe.

He brings his arm to rest over Gabe’s shoulders and pulls him closer, their foreheads nearly touching. His legs tangle with Gabe’s. “I love you too, Gabe.” Gabe relaxes against him, and McCree thinks he could easily survive for years simply by looking at Gabe’s smiling face.

“I’m still not gonna go easy on you in training, you hear,” Gabe adds, and McCree laughs softly.

“I wouldn’t dream of havin’ it any other way.”

**Author's Note:**

> again, thanks to the ppl on the mchanzo discord for encouraging my ships!
> 
> thanks to EnderbornFaerie for translating the large portion of Spanish!
> 
> there needs to be more mcreyes in the world
> 
> http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/elvispresley/canthelpfallinginlove.html here's the song gabe plays


End file.
